


How to Write 'I Love You'

by xeniaraven



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin Skywalker Needs a Hug, Canon-Typical Violence, Dreams and Nightmares, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss, Fluff and Angst, Happy Ending, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Master & Padawan Relationship(s), Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Writing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:22:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27130378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xeniaraven/pseuds/xeniaraven
Summary: Obi-Wan was nervous for Anakin after their fight against Dooku. Truly, he didn't know what to expect when his Padawan woke up to see his hand like this. He didn't know what to expect as he healed. He didn't know how to help Anakin. He didn't expect the emotions to bubble up and over. And he didn't expect Anakin to be having the same feelings.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi/Anakin Skywalker
Comments: 24
Kudos: 150





	How to Write 'I Love You'

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Gwendolyn (storiesofchaos)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesofchaos/gifts).



> This is to [Gwendolyn(storiesofchaos)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storiesofchaos/pseuds/Gwendolyn) who really wanted me to actually write out a prompt I had suggested in our server. And it turned into this massive story on accident. I really hope you like it and that it lived up to the prompt, even if the prompt morphed a bit. 
> 
> Big thank you to [ cataclysm_dialogue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cataclysm_dialogue/pseuds/cataclysm_dialogue) for beta'ing this for me
> 
> And to all of you I also hope you like it. I tried my best to be as canon-compliant as possible, but then again there's only so much Wookiepedia can do with my limited patience. I really enjoyed writing this and I hope you enjoy reading it too.

“Master Kenobi,” a healer whispered to him from where he had fallen asleep in a chair next to Anakin’s medical bed, his healing trance keeping him in a deep slumber. “I must insist that we heal you as well. Your wounds-”

“No,” Obi-Wan croaked out, ashamed he had even fallen asleep in the first place. “Not until I see my Padawan is safe.” _Not until I see his eyes again_.

“Sir, I must insist. I believe it would benefit-”

“I refuse to be put into a healing trance until he’s safe and conscious. I assure you, my wounds can heal on their own. We must have healed without trances at one point in our history, no?” Obi-Wan smiled up at her, hoping it came across as calming and caring, rather than sleep-deprived and deranged. 

“If you insist. But I will be keeping a close eye on you,” the healer warned. “May I at least take your vitals? Calm some of the healers and say that you’re at least partially well?”

“That I can allow,” Obi-Wan let his arm fall out onto the chair, his wrist lying up for the healer to touch him, work through all the proper procedures to ensure that he wasn’t close to death. Obi-Wan could tell her already he was fine, he was perfectly ok even with the saber burns, bruises, and twisted ankle. He wasn’t the one who had lost a limb, and he certainly wouldn’t be the one to lose all of Anakin because he wasn’t being careful enough. 

But the body takes what the body needs after long enough, and Obi-Wan found himself slipping away, sinking deeper into his chair with every second that the medic continued to take his vitals. In the back part of his mind he believed it was just a ploy to get him to relax, to get him to stop thinking about Anakin’s wellbeing for ten minutes. Let his brain empty of all the worries that plagued the galaxy and care for himself. If the healer had helped him into that sleep, he didn’t have the strength to argue it today.

Still, even with the confidence that the healers knew what they were doing, and that Anakin would be able to rig up his own prosthetic, he couldn’t leave the man’s side. No one truly questioned him given that it was less than a week since he had disappeared from the halls of the temple. A few days he refused to answer his comm unless it was the Council updating him on senate meetings. 

He could spare a few days, maybe even a lifetime, for Anakin. 

“Obi-Wan!” Anakin panicked, a rough cry escaping his throat from where he lay in the medbay, kicking Obi-Wan from the fitful slumber he had drifted into. Anakin was awake, and this was the moment Obi-Wan had feared since they brought him into the Hall of Healing “Obi-Wan! I can’t- where’s- Force what did I do?”

He was panicking, shaking, as he had every right to be. The healing trance he was in had slowly worn off, leaving him wondering what happened to part of his body without the full memories of the fight coming back to him. Coming out of a healing trance is supposed to be calming, but it seemed this time it hadn’t quelled his fears enough. And, unfortunately, they had to amputate a bit further up his arm to ensure that if he had wanted a prosthetic, there would be a better chance at finding live nerve endings to hook the cybernetics up to. 

“Master!” Anakin yelled again, waking Obi-Wan fully to see Anakin horrified, looking down at where the rest of his arm should have laid. Instead, he had nothing but a nub wrapped in gauze and a casing with a generous application of bacta underneath. The sight of it was jarring, even to Obi-Wan who had watched the medics change his dressings every few hours. It was even more abnormal when they tucked it underneath Anakin’s thin blanket, giving the illusion that maybe, if Obi-Wan thought hard enough, Anakin was perfectly fine. That he still had both hands for Obi-Wan to wrap his own hands around. 

“Shhh, Anakin calm. It’s ok I promise I’m here,” Obi-Wan said, scooching himself closer to Anakin’s side, reaching out to him before retracting, feeling that touch might be too much. A healer had come in to the sound of Anakin’s cries, earning a stern look from Obi-Wan as a warning to go away at the moment. The last thing Anakin needed was a stiff discussion of medical terminology and what had happened. “I haven’t left, I'm here.”

“Dooku. He- my hand m-my arm…” Obi-Wan let him sort through his own thoughts. He sent comfort through their Force bond, wrapping Anakin in as much of a soothing presence as he could, recreating the way he wished he could wrap him in his arms now.

Masters were supposed to be compassionate toward their Padawans. They were meant to train them, raise them, and protect them as much as possible. But Obi-Wan consistently felt that his feelings for Anakin veered into different territory. Compassion was one thing, but some days Obi-Wan would watch Anakin do something entirely irrational or plain stupid, and even while he should have been scolding him, he couldn't help but feel something blossom tight in his chest, the vine pushing his ribcage apart to make more room for something.

He hadn't figured out what that something was yet. 

"I'll never be able to fight again," Anakin sighed out, his shoulders looking as if they would break from the weight of each syllable. 

"We'll be able to get you a cybernetic Anakin. The advancements in technology are astounding. I know you know that. You'll be ok."

"But I don't feel ok!" Anakin yelled, his worry apparent between their shared bond, and there was nothing Obi-Wan could push his way more to get him to calm down. “I- I won’t be able to be a real Jedi! I can’t fight with a prosthetic! There's no way. No way in the galaxy that it will be enough. Master I- I should have listened to you. I-

"What if you oversaw your own prosthetic?” Obi-Wan interrupted. “Tinkered with it. Made modifications. Essentially re-created your own hand. Would that help?" Obi-Wan wasn't certain it was a good idea. Anakin would be playing with the fine line between engineering and physiology. But with the way his force signature calmed the slightest at the idea, Obi-Wan was willing to make it work.

"Create my own hand?" Anakin questioned more to himself than anyone else in the room. "I suppose so. I mean, I'd have to be set up with something to build from, perhaps just a standard cybernetic prosthetic could work. I'd have to get the correct wires and dig through the holos for…"

Obi-Wan relaxed, finally, at hearing Anakin ramble on about the specifications, Anakin’s mind too preoccupied about the implication of tinkering with his own mechanics to worry anymore. He wouldn’t have time to worry about the fight if he had his mind on wires. Obi-Wan learned that early on in their training. 

It was a strange sort of fixation: wanting to create something on himself that was entirely mechanical and yet could somehow replicate the biology of humans. Obi-Wan supposed that what he had only meant as an encouragement rang as a fact in Anakin’s head: truly with a bit of wire and some determination he could do anything.

“Master Kenobi. Padawan Skywalker. May I come in now?” The same healer from earlier peeked around the corner to ask, smiling a bit at the sight of Anakin excitedly rambling about his arm. “It seems he might be in a far better mood to take this information.”

“Of course. Should I step out?”

“Please sir,” the healer bowed her head slightly in respect, hoping she hadn’t overstepped an invisible boundary. “I understand that you are his Master, but his medical information is still private to him now that he’s no longer a minor. He can disclose more information to you later if he wishes.”

“I understand. No need for concern dear.”

Obi-Wan waited in the hallway, judging how their discussion was going by the small flares and dulls of Anakin’s Force signature. The tiny hints of emotion he could feel through the door were enough to tell him he was excited to try this new idea: not the first mechanical prosthetic in the universe but perhaps the first one of its kind. But he was also concerned, as Anakin always was. Recently he had one fear lurking just underneath the surface, something Obi-Wan couldn't figure out. Anakin had buried it in his consciousness so deep Obi-Wan wouldn’t be able to find it in a lifetime if he went digging. 

“You may come back in now,” the healer opened the door, smiling softly at him. “He will get his prosthetic in a few days. For now it’s acceptable to take him home if you’d like, we’d prefer to watch his progress for a while-”

“I wanna stay.” Anakin blurted out, a tinge of panic settled into his features. “I don’t want anyone to see.”

“Of course my Padawan. But you must understand that no one would judge you. We all get battle wounds.”

“Do you all get your limbs chopped off by Sith lords?”

“No Anakin, thankfully we do not. Must be the Skywalker special,” Obi-Wan laughed, full to his heart, simply thankful that his wonderful Padawan had survived yet another one of their eventful missions. He made a mental note to try and talk to his Padawan about creating less chaotic mission strategies and perhaps communicate them beforehand. Might make things go a bit smoother in the future. 

“I wanna stay.” Anakin said again with finality. “At least until I get my prosthetic.”

“Unfortunately, Anakin, your prosthetic might be available to you, but until your nub is desensitized, your staples out and healed properly, we will not let you test it,” the healer said again, flipping through his chart on her holopad. “Bacta is power, truly miraculous in how quickly it aids the body in cell regeneration and healing, but it still takes time. You’ll have, at minimum, two more weeks of healing.”

“Then I suppose I’m staying for two weeks!”

“Anakin, we can’t take up a bed for that long. There are people that need help here and while I understand your panic at your appearance, we cannot stay.”

“I don’t want anyone asking questions though. I just-it’s-”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan finally sat in his chair again, putting his arm on Anakin’s shoulder, feeling him flinch just slightly before settling into it. “No one will ask questions. I will personally see to that.”

“It’s going to be noticeable under my tunics. It’s fairly noticeable when there’s, you know, not an arm there. Master, I can’t do this.”

He felt Anakin’s panic flare-up in their bond, the worry creeping into Obi-Wan’s own mind by how emotional he was. There was nothing he could do to help his Padawan. Nothing. He had sleep-deprived himself to the furthest point possible, pushed himself to stay awake and be there for Anakin. But this, this panic, this fear over his own self: that would take a lifetime for Obi-Wan to fix. 

“Healer,” he turned to her with his question. “Is it possible to be released at night? Sometime very late in the night, perhaps one or even two a.m.?”

“Of course. We can release you at any time technically.”

“Anakin, how about we leave tomorrow night. I’m sure the healer here would be fine with that, and most of the Temple should be asleep by then. I can grab one of your robes from your chambers for you to wrap yourself in. It will be far more difficult for others to recognize something with your tunics _and_ robe.”

Obi-Wan waited for Anakin’s response, looking up to the healer to see her nod in approval of the idea. One more day in the Hall of Healing before being allowed to go back to their respective chambers, though Obi-Wan was certain it wouldn’t be without his own discharge rules, and a few extra vials of bacta. 

“I do need to state something with your idea Master Kenobi,” the healer tentatively spoke. “As Padawan Skywalker is under your supervision, you will be entirely responsible for his care after leaving the Hall of Healing. Therefore we highly recommend that you stay within sight of each other at all times. Do you understand?”

“Not entirely I’m afraid. What exactly are you insinuating?”

“Anakin’s healing will need to be monitored at all times of day, therefore it is in your best interest as his Master and caretaker to figure out a shared living arrangement for a few months. I understand that this can be uncomfortable, and we are more than willing to set you up in a more suitable arrangement with separate rooms-”

“Anakin truly this is your decision. Your comfort comes before my own in this situation.”

“I- I guess I’d be ok with that. I’d feel maybe more comfortable if we didn’t have to- you know-”

“We can set you up with a double room. Something where you each have your own separate sleeping chambers with a door between them, but still accessible for Master Kenobi to come tend to you when necessary.”

Anakin and Obi-Wan looked at each other for a while, curious about each other, wondering if that would be appropriate enough. Obi-Wan would have no issue with sharing his space with Anakin: he had done so when Anakin was younger, adjusting to the new temple life. But this was different: Anakin was older, his own adult by legality, and he would never pressure him into sharing their space again if he didn’t want to. Especially if it meant his discomfort. 

“That could work,” Anakin finally managed. “Separate rooms. Obi-Wan could watch me through our Force bond for pain? Would that be enough?”

“Master Kenobi is your bond strong enough to feel that even through sleep?”

Anakin looked at him worriedly, a plea for a lie on his face to simply get away. Be done with this silly arrangement and have his own privacy back, his own bed, his own place to find his own feelings. 

“Yes,” Obi-Wan lied. “It is attuned enough where I could tell.”

“Then you may be discharged tomorrow night given that Anakin’s vitals and well-being is up to our standards.”

The healer nodded at them both before leaving them to be with each other and discuss their future sleeping arrangements. For once Obi-Wan was happy to hear the sound of Anakin’s voice so much, of him rambling on about how he would fix up his new cybernetic prosthetic. But finally, he asked something that took him by a bit of surprise, though he supposed it wasn’t that out of the ordinary.

“Is Padme ok?”

It hit something deep in Obi-Wan’s chest, a sort of prick that shouldn’t have mattered but it hit just the right part of his heart, the right part of his soul, to deflate whatever happiness he had at Anakin being awake. But he had to remind himself they were just friends, nothing more. Or so he had hoped. Anakin was his own person, aware of the repercussions that came with breaking the code. 

He had hoped he trained him well enough. 

“She is fine. Her wounds were tended to, but I have not heard much about her since then.”

“I’m glad she’s ok. And you Master? Have you-”

“I’m perfectly fine my Padawan,” he lied for the second time that day, the guilt of it settling under the topmost layer of his skin. A featherweight uncomfortableness that he had lied for and to Anakin. It wasn’t something he took lightly.

* * *

The first few days of their shared quarters weren’t too strange. They hobbled around each other in their shared fresher, Anakin having to get used to brushing his teeth with this other hand, Obi-Wan only teasing him slightly. The biggest issue they saw coming was bathing. Anakin was not allowed to use the sonic shower for fear of getting his incision wet. Rather, he would have to make do with using the bath, and the idea terrified Obi-Wan straight to his core. 

So when the day finally came that Anakin needed to bathe it was awkward, a shared boundary line being crossed about seeing one another this way. Obi-Wan wrapped the end of Anakin’s severed arm in a plastic bag, working to make sure that it wouldn’t get any water on it at the moment, before helping Anakin balance and step into the tub, holding onto his towel for dear life and trying to keep it from getting wet. 

“I think I’m good Master,” Anakin fumbled out, a blush as red as Bespin’s atmosphere spreading quickly across his face. “I can do this part on my own.”

“Anakin, there’s no shame in this,” Obi-Wan said, keeping an arm outstretched as Anakin took his weight off him. “I refuse to leave until you’re at least sitting.”

“I still have one functioning arm,” he groaned out in annoyance.

“Yes but that brain of yours isn’t trained to realize it’s missing another. The second you start to fall it will all be instinctual, and you’ll reach with something that isn’t there anymore Anakin.”

“You don’t have to remind me,” Anakin said through gritted teeth, trying very hard not to snap back at Obi-Wan. 

“I’m sorry,” Obi-Wan sighed out. “I don’t want you injuring yourself even more.”

“Just…” Anakin trailed off. 

There really wasn’t much to say about the situation, both of them opting for silence as Anakin sank beneath the warm water, happy to feel it settle into the crevices of his skin and begin to untangle the knots of stress that grew within his muscles. 

Obi-Wan sat on the edge of the tub, lathering Anakin’s hair with his favorite shampoo, one that smelled faintly like florals. He ran his hands through Anakin’s short hair, massaging his scalp to make sure he got every inch of dirt from it. Anakin sighed contently at every press of Obi-Wan’s thumbs, and the small circling motions that he made across his head. His shoulders finally relaxed, eyes shutting closed as he let Obi-Wan help him, finally accepting that he can and should be taken care of every once and awhile. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me now,” Obi-Wan chuckled into the room, his voice far too loud against the porcelain tub. “I can carry you unconscious but I’d rather not carry you dripping wet.”

“‘Mmm feels nice,” was all Anakin managed to get out as Obi-Wan pulled the showerhead over to Anakin, rinsing his hair clean. 

After they went through the painstaking and petrifying ordeal of trying to wash Anakin’s skin, Obi-Wan noticing more bruising along his back than the healers had told him about earlier, Anakin was finally clean. He was pliant, relaxed, and the calmest Obi-Wan had ever seen him before. A deep, instinctual part of himself wanted to kiss Anakin’s forehead, but he shoved that down, opting to place a hand on his shoulder and wake Anakin from the slight daze he had slipped into.

“Time for bed Anakin,” Obi-Wan smiled as he helped him up and over the edge of the bathtub, drying him with a towel and helping him into a loose pair of pajama pants for the night. 

Sadly, Obi-Wan didn’t sleep much with their current arrangements. Anakin was always one for nightmares but these seemed worse than before. Obi-Wan could frequently hear his yells through their door, wishing he could shake Anakin awake and tell him whatever he saw painted beneath those eyelids of his wasn’t true. _I’d never let something hurt you_. 

He knew it was highly inappropriate though. Anakin would find it a breach of his privacy, and so he had to hold onto a blanket tightly, or a pillow, or even sometimes his own self, to keep from shaking Anakin awake. He’d listen to the final gasp as Anakin awoke, and the first sob at realizing he still didn’t have a hand. Didn’t have part of an arm. 

Somewhere in there Obi-Wan wondered if Anakin lost more than just a limb. 

Maybe he lost part of himself too. 

Finally, after three days of fitful sleep and tired mornings, Anakin knocked on Obi-Wan’s door late at night. The sun wasn’t set to rise for a few more hours, and Anakin looked more broken than ever as Obi-Wan told him to come in. The same set of dark rings that found a home under Obi-Wan’s eyes had begun to settle into Anakin’s. The man was dragging his feet so hard across the floor he wondered if he ever picked them up. 

“Can I… this is strange… I just-” Anakin trailed off, unable to find the words he wanted to say in his sleep-deprived state.

“Like when you were younger?” Obi-Wan yawned into the space, sitting up slightly to face Anakin.

“It always used to help. I wouldn’t get them so bad. I know I’m too old to be asking such things of you. It’s... And just… I’ll just go back it was a stupid idea anyways. I’m sorry to interrupt your sleep Master.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan slurred out, rolling over to face the middle of the bed rather than the edge, patting the space next to him. “It’s not strange. You’ve been through something traumatic.”

He slowly made his way across the space, sinking down into the soft mattress that smelled entirely of Obi-Wan. In front of Obi-Wan’s eyes he already looked younger, more at peace. He slipped into his old habit of curling into a ball under the blankets, something he hadn’t seen him do in years, before getting frustrated that he couldn’t move his blanket around himself if he was already sleeping on his good arm. After enough struggling and frustrated grunts Obi-Wan finally reached across to him.

“Let me help,” Obi-Wan spoke calmly, with the same demeanor he always did around Anakin’s frustrations. A whisper laced with the sunlight of dawn, the calmness before the world awakes. 

“I can do it myself.” Anakin's words were filled with malice, but they weren’t as potent as he would have liked. Unfortunately, anger and drowsiness don’t mix well, no matter how much he wanted to scream. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan spoke, calmly, reaching out to him, an arms-length away across the bed. “You must let me help you. It will only take you longer to heal if you resist and refuse help.”

Finally, Anakin nodded, still tense as Obi-Wan worked the blanket around him, tucking him in much like his first month at the temple. Back then the same routine was done emotionlessly, more out of necessity to keep Anakin around than to love, no, be compassionate towards him. It was Obi-Wan’s duty as promised by his last words to Qui-Gon. Now… now it was his duty out of wanting his Padawan alive, well, and healthy. Out of wanting the best for Anakin. His Anakin. 

“Better?” Obi-Wan asked, patting his shoulder just lightly before moving away again. 

“Yes. Thank you Master.”

“Anakin?” 

“Yes?”

“Please, while we’re in this, predicament, call me Obi-Wan. When we’re elsewhere Master should be used, but it feels strange to have a title when I’m caring for you.”

“But you’re required to care for me as my Master. There wouldn't be-”

“Anakin, I’m not required to do nearly all of this,” Obi-Wan flicked his eyes in the space between them, a blush creeping its way onto his cheeks that he hoped Anakin couldn’t see in the darkness of the room. “I’m doing this as your friend. Someone who has been by your side for a large portion of your life. Our interactions aren’t entirely normal for training. I do consider you a true, loyal friend, and therefore I’d like to be called just Obi-Wan when I’m being your friend. Here.”

“Yes Ma- Yes Obi-Wan.”

“Now, get some sleep. The best medicine is always rest.”

They both slept more peacefully that night, Anakin finally sleeping past the time the sun shone through their window, and even past the time Obi-Wan had gotten up to shower, brush his teeth, and get dressed for the day. He was carefully quiet to keep from waking Anakin, enjoying the sight of how peaceful his Padawan could be when asleep. The slow rise and fall of his chest with every breath, the way the tension failed to settle into him. Obi-Wan wondered if he could ever see Anakin this way in his waking hours: so carefree and void of the pain in the world.

* * *

Obi-Wan woke in a panic a few nights later, the moonlight still seeping into their windows but with the promise of sunrise just behind it. Anakin was up earlier than normal, up before Obi-Wan which caused enough suspicion in the back of Obi-Wan’s mind to begin with. Then Anakin’s distress slowly started seeping into Obi-Wan’s consciousness, his own Force signature flaring up in unease at the sheer depth of distress and disorientation he felt. 

He patted his arms around the bed in the darkness, hoping to find another body there, and coming up empty. Whatever warmth Anakin’s body normally left indented into the sheets had already gone cold. Just as he realized his Padawan wasn’t there, he heard sobbing coming from their fresher. A stifled sob, one hoping it wouldn’t reach the ears of anyone else around. 

Quickly he jumped out of bed and over to their shared fresher, only to realize it was locked from the inside. 

“Anakin?” Obi-Wan hesitantly asked, putting his ear to the door. 

“Go away,” Anakin cried out, the sadness and pain thick on his words, almost making them unintelligible. “I’m fine.”

“Clearly you’re not fine. What are you doing in there?” Obi-Wan’s own panic started hitting his throat, a tight knot of worry that wouldn’t escape. But to keep Anakin’s own peace of mind he choked it down as best as possible, hid his emotions behind a barrier to keep them from seeping into the space between them.

“I said go _away,_ ” Anakin yelled again before Obi-Wan heard a few sobs escaping his mouth.

“Anakin, I told you to let me help. Please. You’re worrying me immensely right now. I’m not going to judge you for whatever has happened. You must know I.. I care for you.”

Obi-Wan waited in silence, hoping, pleading that Anakin would open the door. He had no idea what was going on in there, both in the room and in that man’s mind. The only wish he wanted was for Anakin to understand that he was here to help, to care for him, to be there for him in any way he needed until he was finally back to the wonderful Padawan Obi-Wan knew. Until he was back on the battlefield, sassing every enemy they came across, and fumbling only slightly over his words around the senators. 

After what felt like forever, an infinite abyss growing between them that Obi-Wan thought he might fall into, Obi-Wan heard a click of the door opening, pressing his hand against the panel next to it to open it up. 

Anakin was sitting cross-legged on the floor, hand covering his face as he wept openly, a steady stream of tears falling down and dripping off his chin. He sniffled, trying to clean himself up before Obi-Wan and failing miserably. When he finally turned his head to look in Obi-Wan’s direction, it shattered his heart. 

His face was blotchy red, eyes sunken into his face slightly, pleading for something Obi-Wan couldn’t name. Perhaps they were pleading for just someone to be there, someone to make everything ok. His hand was shaking violently, unable to control the desperation within himself. He looked so incredibly scared and upset with his own self that Obi-Wan wondered how much he had lost. If he had truly lost more than just a hand that day. 

“Anakin dearest,” Obi-Wan was too preoccupied to even notice the pet name escape from his mouth. Too preoccupied with the terrified man in front of him that looked so young and afraid of whatever the future held for him. “What were you trying to do?”

“My braid,” Anakin cried, moving to try and cradle his knees with one arm. “The stupid braid it, it’s loose and I’m supposed to keep it tidy. You know- you- you know we can’t have it messy. And-it-it needed to get redone and I thought- Force I just thought-”

“Shhhh,” Obi-Wan wanted so desperately to wrap himself around Anakin, to sit behind him and cradle him into his chest. But he wouldn’t allow himself that. “It’s ok. I can-”

“I just wanted to do something for myself. One stupid, ridiculous thing,” Anakin was still crying, shaking, unable to console himself. “But I can’t even take care of my own braid!”

“Anakin, Anakin please.” Obi-Wan came to sit at his side, rubbing his back slightly to try and console him, get him to regulate his breathing at least even enough to think rationally. There wasn’t much he could do until Anakin calmed slightly, until he decided that it was okay to ask for help. 

Eventually, Anakin curled into Obi-Wan’s lap, much to his surprise, settling into the crook of Obi-Wan’s neck as he cried. The contact was soothing to Obi-Wan, seeing that Anakin wasn’t afraid of it. In the deepest part of himself, he knew he should tell him to get off, to move back on the floor and get away from this. But it felt like Anakin’s sunlight was poured into each place he touched along Obi-Wan’s skin. A field of the most beautiful wildflowers, the softest petals, pushing up against his ribs, his chest, a spring breeze fluttering across his skin and breathing a sort of life into him he hadn’t known wasn’t there before 

“Obi-Wan I just… I wanted to do it myself,” Anakin sniffled out after minutes of sobbing, Obi-Wan’s hands still rubbing against his back in circles, tracing patterns along the scars and freckles that dotted his shoulder blades. “I wanted to be normal again.”

“Dearest,” Obi-Wan registered what he said this time, clearing his throat to try and muffle the endearment. “Anakin, you are still normal. Nothing has changed about you to me. We will get through this.”

His heart stopped dead in his chest once Anakin looked up at him, his crystal blue eyes glittering like a waterfall in summer, the tears had stopped falling but they were still right there at the edge. Even though they were slightly red-rimmed, he could see each fleck of blue, each different shade within them that could only be described as Anakin. A blue that resonated so truly within Obi-Wan’s heart there was no other way to put it. No sky, no sea, no fabric in the galaxy could compare to the bright, beautiful cerulean and deep, intricate navies that were hand-painted into Anakin’s irises. 

“It,” he sniffled. “It still needs to get braided.”

Obi-Wan didn’t want Anakin to leave his side. But the truth of the matter was, in a few short years he would be knighted, and whatever they had built together could be thrown away once Anakin no longer had to be by his side. And so Obi-Wan let him move away, let him pull his emotions back from Anakin once again, and simply smile. Show the man the affection he needed right now, even if the revelation was slowly ripping Obi-Wan in half. 

“Would you like me to braid it Anakin?”

“It needs to get done,” was all he said, not giving a straight answer. “It needs to get done.”

Obi-Wan shifted Anakin around until they were both facing each other, knees lightly touching, before Obi-Wan shifted him to the side again. Anakin’s long piece of hair fluttered loosely from behind his ear, something Obi-Wan wasn’t used to seeing. He had taught Anakin how to braid years ago when he first got here, but Padawans normally took to maintaining their braids by themselves. 

He wrapped his fingers tentatively around his hair, pulling apart the three strands between his fingers. It had been so long since he had to braid, but given how many years he did it as a Padawan himself, the muscle memory came back to him. He twisted each piece around itself, making sure to pull it tight to keep from having to redo it again as frequently. Once he got about a third of the way down he looked around for the blue string that Anakin should have taken out, finding it next to Anakin’s knee on the fresher floor. 

“You’ve been sleeping more soundly,” Obi-Wan finally said as he worked his way down the strand of hair. “Have your nightmares subsided?”

“They have. I don’t know why, but being in the same room as you seems to help.”

Butterflies fluttered inside Obi-Wan’s rib cage before he settled their wings. He didn’t even know butterflies existed there anymore, shocking himself slightly at the beat of air beneath their wings, the stammering of his own heart. 

“I just,” Anakin continued. “I feel horridly dependent. I shouldn’t be needing you this much. I’m my own person... I should be able to take care of myself.”

“Anakin, we all need help sometimes. Master Qui-Gon took care of me as a Padawan when I’d get too roughed up the same way I am now taking care of you. It’s our responsibility.”

“You said earlier that this is more than responsibility Obi-Wan.”

“It is. The only duty I’m bound to is your physical wellbeing,” Obi-Wan started wrapping the red string around the bottom of Anakin’s braid. “Your emotional well-being is not my responsibility, yet it's something I take seriously.”

“I suppose” Anakin huffed out.

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan shifted to sit in front of him now, his braid dropping loosely out of his hand, landing on his shoulder. Obi-Wan put one hand on Anakin’s knee, hoping that the physical contact would make his words ring true. “I mean it. I want you to understand that you can talk to myself, Master Yoda, Master Plo, any of us about something that’s troubling you. And in this moment, as you’re going through this, I cannot speak more clearly that I am here. Do not lock yourself away in your own mind.”

Obi-Wan let the space between them fill with his sentiment, waiting for Anakin to acknowledge his words. He watched Anakin contemplate it, turn it over in his mind, his eyes flicking between different spaces on the floor. He couldn't tell if it was out of shame or tiredness the way he hung his head. Finally, Anakin looked up at him, the start of a smile playing on his lips, a small nod. 

"Can we go back to bed?" Anakin asked, voice sounding smaller than ever. "I wasn't supposed to wake you."

"Of course. Come on I'll help you up,"

"Actually can I try myself? Gotta get used to it."

"Are you sure Anakin?" Obi-Wan worried over Anakin wanting to try things so quickly. Each sharp corner that he could fall on being categorized in his brain, a blueprint of their fresher with _danger_ written in bright red. 

"Please. Just stay there and let me try," Anakin pleaded as he watched Obi-Wan stand, arm outstretched to catch Anakin just in case he fell. 

Anakin was wobbly, more than a bit uncertain having only one arm, his non-dominant arm at that, trying to push and pull his own body weight. He used his arm to help pull himself up with the edge of the counter, death grip on the edge of it. No matter how much Obi-Wan wanted to reach out, wanted to make sure he was out of danger's way, he resisted. He stayed planted where he was until Anakin asked or looked like he was about to fall. 

"I've got it Obi-Wan," Anakin huffed out to calm Obi-Wan's nervousness that he wasn't keeping out of their bond very well. "I got it."

Finally, Anakin pulled himself up with a triumphant grin, heaving a bit from the effort, but excited to have done something himself, even if made Obi-Wan's nerves go haywire. Then again, when wasn't Anakin doing something that made Obi-Wan groan or worry? It wouldn't be Anakin without his antics. 

"Come on," Obi-Wan grinned back at him, laughing just slightly. "Let's get you some more sleep."

* * *

A few days later Anakin was finally able to get the first version of his cybernetic prosthetic. They were both brought down to the Hall of Healing to watch it be fitted to his arm. 

"Can you feel this?" Anakin was asked repeatedly as they poked different portions of his new arm. They sent small shocks up the length of it to imitate feeling, but rarely any of it was registering. 

"Here take Master Kenobi's hand." The healer guided Anakin's hand over to where Obi-Wan's hand lay on the table next to him. "Try flipping your hand over and grabbing his hand.”

Obi-Wan tried his best not to flinch at the cold durasteel that came to lay on top of his palm. He tried even harder to keep his hand flat, to keep his fingers from intertwining with the metal. It wasn't Anakin, but it was going to be him. It would be melded and morphed, screwed and designed, to be entirely from him and not from him at the same time. To be him, as much of him as possible, while being made from nothing of him. 

"Try and squeeze for me Anakin." The healer watched intently as Anakin tried remembering what it was like to squeeze a hand, to fire the same neurons in his brain that would travel through the synth-net neural interface and fire electrical impulses into the wire. No matter how much he tried he barely flinched, his fingers wrapping only minutely around Obi-Wan's hand. 

It was enough to make Obi-Wan's heart pound in his chest. Like a promise. A flicker into the imagined future he had so desperately wanted for himself. 

"That's at least a start," the healer helped Anakin move his prosthetic from Obi-Wan's hand. The lack of contact with the durasteel should have been comforting, but it wasn't. He would hold that hand every day of his life if he could. 

“I can imagine the interface needs to get used to me,” Anakin tried as a compromise. Obi-Wan knew it was more of an answer for himself than for anyone else in the room. “I probably should work at making it more hypersensitive. Make it react to my own nerves and program it that way rather than just a generic one.”

“Anakin I-” Obi-Wan tried to interject.

“After the hypersensitivity, I can imagine there must be some sort of data board I can input into my new arm that will allow me to replicate human feeling. And then I can-”

“Anakin-”

“I can work on adding new sensors to the fingertips, though I’m sure it will need a different metal for that and-”

“Anakin!” Obi-Wan finally managed out forcefully, making Anakin snap his head over to Obi-Wan next to him. “Are you sure you really want to meddle with your own body like this? This isn’t simple body modification. You’re dealing with mechanics and prosthetics that could make you lose potentially more than what you’ve already lost? Lose… you could lose yourself if something fires wrong and… It’s-”

“Master,” Anakin reached over with his flesh hand to tentatively place it on Obi-Wan’s shoulder. It was an awkward reach, a strange position to be in, but Anakin was trying. "I'll be ok. I understand the risks here."

"Anakin you've _never_ understood the risks."

"Master," Anakin smiled, his teeth just peeking out from between his lips. It reached his eyes. The first smile that he reached his eyes in months. "I promise I'll be careful."

"Alright my Padawan. I trust you.”

Obi-Wan didn’t trust him as much as he should have. He couldn’t bear to see Anakin lose more of his arm than what he already had. Or to see him accidentally fry a circuit that fried something in his mind. There was only so much of Anakin that Obi-Wan was willing to lose, and the limit had already been surpassed. 

Anakin was to have physical therapy twice a week and work with some experts in prosthetics and biomechanics another two days out of the week to examine modifications to the cybernetic. Obi-Wan specifically requested the last part, hoping that at least if someone was there to supervise Anakin’s tinkering that he’d be safe. Force forbid something went wrong. 

The other three days Obi-Wan had watch over him. Kept him safe. Made sure he was sleeping well enough and taking care of himself. Eventually, he’d have to start going back to Council meetings but for at least another week or two he had full permission to miss them. For these days, these moments, he was happy to spend more time with his Padawan.

* * *

Obi-Wan had adapted their two-bedroom suite into one, Anakin moving all of his things into their room. While Anakin had sworn he was only going to stay in Obi-Wan’s bed for a night or two, at least until the nightmares stopped, he never did go back to his own bed. He really didn’t want Anakin to either. They had made it part of their routines: Anakin kept close to keep his nightmares at bay, and Obi-Wan to watch over him. 

But Anakin was mostly healed now. He didn’t need to check on his bandages anymore. He didn't need Obi-Wan. 

Yet he stayed. 

It settled strangely, the realization that truly Anakin could be sleeping elsewhere. There was no reason for him to stay anymore. 

Perhaps it was just easier for Anakin at night to crawl into bed without worries. Maybe he didn't even think about it: just another thing he never thought strange from his upbringing on Tatooine. Surely cohabitation wasn't strange for them there. A slew of excuses flew through Obi-Wan's mind, trying to shove all of them into the puzzle piece hole in his brain until one fit just well enough it could pass. 

It seemed the galaxy would remind him itself of why he still needed Anakin around. He was never one for unrestful sleep, not until Anakin’s accident. Not until now. 

_It was beautiful, the sight of Anakin’s smile before him. The wide grin across his face dazzling like sunlight across Naboo’s lakes. His laugh came deep from his chest, shaking his frame as he skipped backward, pulling Obi-Wan along with him._

_There was joy, happiness, peace. A kind of peace neither had been able to have with each other as just two friends. No Jedi or Code between them, just two men desperate for connection and a sense of admiration._

_“Master!” Anakin giggled in front of him._

_He kept tugging Obi-Wan along, going to a place he couldn't see, but to his mind’s eye it didn’t matter so long as he was with Anakin. The picturesque scene of them happy together, whether it was romantic or platonic Obi-Wan didn’t know, but it felt entirely right. As if he had stepped into a home with a fireplace waiting for him, and a place to hang his robe and saber._

_Slowly, Anakin pulled him into a blissful darkness, Obi-Wan unaware of the shift. The world got darker around them, the type of darkness that steals sight from your senses and threatens to drown you in an ocean. A darkness that wrings the life out of your lungs with feral laughter and leaves you heaving into the dirt._

_But Obi-Wan could still see the shimmer of Anakin’s eyes, the whites of them, the blues of them so happy and innocent. Until he couldn’t. Until it was gone._

_Until the glow of a red saber brought them back, Anakin’s eyes tear-stained and frightened._

_Obi-Wan recognized it. The curve of the silver hilt, the red, the hand holding it up to Anakin’s throat as he was held there. It was familiar to him, almost as familiar as the man who spoke._

_“I have your boy now. Your precious Padawan. What will you do? You’ve already lost part of your lineage. Your dear Master. You wouldn’t dare hurt your Grandmaster. Look how you’ve already tainted your lineage.”_

_Suddenly Qui-Gon was at his feet, the same image as the day he lost him. The saber burn torn straight through him, his face melancholy as he reached a shaky hand up to Obi-Wan, to bring him closer. But Obi-Wan was stuck in his place, the chains of his mind refusing to let him move, to cradle his old Master in his arms._

_“You should have never trained him,” this version of Qui-Gon whispered out before turning to ash, the dust of him floating off into the darkness.”_

_“Master!” Anakin cried out, trying to wiggle free from Dooku’s arm that held him back, the blade coming closer to his neck._

_“Now now Anakin, can’t have you making your decision for him.”_

_“Let him go!” Obi-Wan yelled. “I would happily kill you before you took him.”_

_“What a shame. Such anger in you.” Dooku’s blade curved quickly, severing Anakin’s hand just as it had done a month prior, only this time he had to watch as Anakin cried out. Watched him writhe in the pain all over again, unable to move to him._

_“Master!” Anakin cried again, the sight of it squeezing the life out of Obi-Wan’s soul itself._

_“You wouldn’t dare lose your dear Padawan. Join me Obi-Wan. Come find your home in the Sith. Come back to your lineage again.”_

_Dooku’s maniacal laughter filled the darkness along with Anakin’s cries. Master! Master! Master!_

“Master!” Obi-Wan awoke to Anakin shaking him awake with his good arm. 

There was water on his face, why had Anakin? It finally struck him, they were his own tears, the trails of them leaving a small puddle on the pillow where he laid. But Anakin was safe and in front of him. Yet the image was burned into him, seared into his memory that he had let Anakin get trapped, get hurt again. Had failed his own Master. Had chosen wrong. 

“Obi-Wan?” Anakin asked hesitantly before Obi-Wan pulled him over to him, tucking Anakin’s head beneath his own and cried. Cried and cried with his Padawan in his arms in perhaps the most inappropriate show of attachment he had ever allowed himself. He ran his fingers through Anakin’s hair and tugged at the back of his neck just to know it was real. That he was safe and nothing had hurt him: nothing had dared to hurt him again. Faintly, he could feel Anakin wrap his arms around Obi-Wan’s middle cautiously, offering his own sense of comfort the best he could. “Obi-Wan what happened?”

“Nothing,” Obi-Wan sniffled out, letting Anakin pull away to be able to look at him. 

“That was…”

“I apologize for that behavior,” Obi-Wan sniffled. “It was inappropriate and selfish and-”

“Nightmare?” Anakin asked, receiving nothing in response. “I used to get them too. You remember. Do… Do you want to talk about it?”

“Anakin we never talked about your nightmares fully. It… It might be best if we don’t talk about mine.”

“That seemed like a lot though,” Anakin worried, pressing at their Force bond. Obi-Wan slammed it shut quickly. “I just want to make sure you’re okay.”

“I’m perfectly fine Anakin.”

“Promise you’re ok?” Anakin asked tentatively after watching Obi-Wan wipe his own face, digging his palms into his eyes to wipe the image of his dream away. “We can stay up and just talk about saber technique or… well anything for a bit until you fall asleep again?”

“I’m not giving you lessons half-asleep Anakin.”

“Then…” Anakin pondered, trying to find the right words. “Then tell me about your favorite mission when you were a Padawan. What was it like?”

“Is this really what you think is helpful right now?” Obi-Wan barked, feeling guilty at how harsh he was being. 

“You always do it with me. Get me talking about ships and projects. I just…”

“There was once a Duchess from Mandalore,” Obi-Wan started, filling the silence. 

It was enough. A peace offering between a charged space of nervous energy. Something had been broken between them, an invisible barrier crossed, but neither of them would say something about it. Anakin just listened as intently as possible to Obi-Wan’s stories with Qui-Gon and all of the ridiculous situations they got themselves in. Even half-asleep, Anakin tried to offer up little nods or hums of affirmation until he dozed off, Obi-Wan not far behind him. 

They awoke cuddled into each other, a waxing gibbous moon where their foreheads touched and Anakin’s legs had shifted to tangle within Obi-Wan’s in an almost perfect circle. They had never woken so close before, creating their own feedback loop of shared body heat and rhythmic breathing. Obi-Wan resigned to get up before Anakin did, hoping to save him the embarrassment of knowing that he had not spent his night on the opposite side of the bed. But he took just one extra moment to look, to embrace the sight of Anakin drooling on his pillow, braid draped casually over the side of it, and little ponytail needing to get wrangled back into its hair tie. 

Obi-Wan always wondered if Anakin liked his hair the way that he did, or if he just saw his own haircut as a Padawan and thought it was the only option. Or maybe Anakin just wanted to be like his Master. He had many fond memories of Anakin screaming that Obi-Wan was the best Jedi around the temple, but it was strange to look back on now. His affections had grown for Anakin since then, and he always wondered if Anakin’s had as well. 

Anakin had grown into a wonderful Jedi. Obi-Wan was proud of him. The kind of pride that opened the bottom point of your heart and let it pour out affection into your lungs with a breath that pushed up your shoulders and sang _he’s amazing_. 

In that pride though, he understood that he’d let Anakin be with anyone. He had to let Anakin leave and be his own Knight. While tinged with all the horrid colors of jealousy, doubt, and anger, he would still rather see Anakin smile holding Padme’s hand, or walking down the corridor with friends of his own, then ever keep him locked away for himself. 

He had to separate Anakin’s wellbeing from his own foolish wishes. 

And they were foolish indeed. 

Obi-Wan went through his normal morning routine in their fresher, working the tangles out of his hair with a comb, rubbing oil into his beard and relaxing his face muscles from his night of sleep. He had a horrible habit of clenching his jaw and grinding his teeth at night so he made it routine to give his face a morning massage while washing away the grime from the night. He never had trouble with acne, but then again, Qui-Gon had made sure to give him the best facial cleansing routine in the galaxy. He was not about to bring an acne-ridden Padawan to the Council. 

Anakin stumbled into the fresher next to Obi-Wan with a yawn, resting his head on Obi-Wan’s shoulder with only half a thought. It took him a few seconds to catch up with the fact that it was not ok, trying to shrug it off as best as possible before reaching for his toothbrush on his side of the vanity. 

“Morning,” Anakin said around his toothbrush, awkwardly trying to move it around his mouth with his left hand. 

“Good morning Anakin.”

The air was tense, not just from Anakin’s little mix-up, which Obi-Wan had half a mind to wonder what made him do it in the first place, but also from Obi-Wan’s nightmare. He wasn’t one to break like that, to have something really hurt him deep in his soul. For years he had hidden that side of himself to ensure that Anakin was raised with a good mentor. 

But Obi-Wan really didn’t get the chance to grieve. To think about Qui-Gon and let himself accept his passing. He was meant to just let it go into the Force and he did the best job he could considering the circumstances, but he always wondered if Anakin would have turned out differently had Qui-Gon trained him. Or better yet, if he would have been a better Jedi had Qui-Gon still been walking the halls, chiding and teasing him about every little thing. 

“Obi-Wan,” Anakin finally spoke after brushing his teeth. “Do you still not want to talk about it?”

“I assure you I’m perfectly fine,” Obi-Wan smiled at Anakin in the mirror as he finished his routine. 

“It didn’t look like you were ok,” Anakin hopped up onto their vanity, dangling his feet off the edge and swinging them just lightly. 

“Please Anakin, don’t press.”

“You always pressed me about my nightmares! And I told you little pieces of them-”

“Barely Anakin. And when you didn’t want to answer I left it alone. I don’t even ask about your nightmares here. Those are for you to know and you alone and I figured if you wanted to talk to me about them you would. But you-”

“I want you to talk to me though!”

“Why is this so important Anakin?” he sighed out, the typical annoyed tone of his name coming out. “Why is this more important than anything else in the galaxy right now?”

“Because I-” Anakin started, yelling and seemingly trying to choke back something. “I care for you. I thought we cared for each other.”

“Anakin-”

“I have PT this morning. I should get going.”

Anakin hopped off the vanity, landing with a small thud on his feet before going to their chambers to get changed quickly. Obi-Wan knew his robes would be a mess of wrinkles and uneven lines, but he didn’t have the willpower to leave their fresher and make his Padawan look more presentable. 

“Don’t forget-” Obi-Wan yelled from his spot in front of the mirror. 

“Lightsaber. I know. _This weapon is your life_ ,” he mocked. “Not like I’m any good using it or anything.”

“Anakin don’t-”

Obi-Wan was cut off by the sound of their chamber door sliding shut, the silence following creeping into the room like a bad omen. That silence stayed for days, a strange sort of tension following their everyday lives as they worked around each other. 

They still slept in the same bed. Both men had decided to keep to their respected side of the bed now, backs turned to each other. Anakin never did wake Obi-Wan from another nightmare. Obi-Wan never did turn to Anakin when he heard the tell-tale sniffles of him crying. It was ridiculous this tension, the red string of fate, pulling and tugging at them to cut it in half and neither one finding the strength to do it. 

Finally, after a few long, arduous weeks, Anakin spent the morning in, tinkering with his mechno-hand to try and get it to do something different. Obi-Wan could never figure out the specifications of it all, but he did notice that Anakin was using his hand more. He was able to grab and hold things, pick up smaller objects, and at one point he had seen Anakin out at the training grounds trying to go through his technique and re-teach himself. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan started, coming to sit in front of him with a warm cup of tea. “Please. We need to talk. This… unease isn’t good for your healing, nor is it good for our emotional state in general.”

“I’ll talk when you decide to tell me what has you crying at night,” Anakin said, not lifting his attention from his mecho-hand at all. 

“I’ll talk when you tell me about _your_ nightmares and what has _you_ crying at night,” Obi-Wan enunciated, moving a few tools on the table to make a spot for his mug. 

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Anakin mumbled out. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“And I care even less to tell you about my dreams but it’s either we talk together or I drag us both down to Master Yoda.”

“I am _not_ doing a dream session with Master Yoda,” Anakin grumbled in his chest, a snarl coming across his features. 

“Then it’s settled.”

They worked for the rest of the morning to untangle the cluttered parts of themselves together. Obi-Wan describing his dream to Anakin, while purposely leaving the detail of Anakin’s presence out. How it felt to lose Qui-Gon. How it felt to know he’d never really get to know his grandmaster more than the stories Qui-Gon had told him. 

Anakin rambled about this mother, how he missed her. Obi-Wan could tell he was cherry-picking his own story, leaving out details that seemingly were important later. Mumbling through some sections so Obi-Wan couldn’t hear what he said. But he was talking, letting Obi-Wan know his struggles and pain points. And he would take that for now, just to know that Anakin trusted him enough to say something. 

Eventually, they tired themselves out emotionally, Anakin wanting to blow off the rest of his steam in the sparring ring and Obi-Wan settling to just relax in their chambers. A meditation session was much needed, so eventually he decided to head out to the meditation deck and hope he could settle and decode all of this new information. 

Days passed quickly, a new open door between then that let them laugh and joke and banter again like old times. Slowly Obi-Wan could see his Padawan was slinking out of whatever dark spot he found himself in and coming back to the light. It just took a bit of uncomfortable conversation and willingness to adapt. 

Eventually, Obi-Wan was summoned back to Council meetings. He wasn't allowed back in the field yet, everyone still a bit too worried about Anakin's well-being if no one was around, but it felt nice to have his Council seat back, even if it was relatively new to him. It was rare for a Master to be granted a seat without successfully training a Padawan to Knight status, but exceptions had to be made with a potential war looming overhead. 

After a rather tedious and time-consuming Council meeting, Obi-Wan came home exhausted to see his Padawan already asleep at their table. The holopad his mechno-hand sat over was still on with incredibly illegible scribbles. He still held a stylus in his hand and Obi-Wan knew exactly what had happened.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan tried to wake him, instinctively running a hand through his short hair and down his neck. "This is no place for a nap my Padawan learner."

Anakin jolted awake quickly, relaxing only when he noticed Obi-Wan next to him. Obi-Wan could feel the tension slip from his shoulders where his hand lay once Anakin fully awoke. 

"Sorry Master," Anakin wiped his eyes as best as possible. "I dozed off."

"I can see," Obi-Wan chuckled at the obvious statement. "Trying to write?"

"Failing to write," Anakin huffed out. 

"Well of course. You're learning on a holopad. Don't you remember anything of how I taught you your first months here?"

"Obi-Wan I was like nine. And shell-shocked. I don't think I remember much from my first _year_ here."

"Let me help you remember then," Obi-Wan rummaged around their chambers, looking in every spare drawer possible. "Well, we don't have any flimsiplast or pens it seems. Anakin would you like to accompany me out to the market? I’ll buy you the proper supplies.”

“Master, Obi-Wan you don’t have to do that. I can go visit Master Jocasta and get something from the archives. I’m sure she has something.”

“Anakin you were the pickiest child I had ever met about your writing utensils. Jocasta will not have the pens you like.”

“What do you mean I was-”

“Come on Anakin,” Obi-Wan laughed, throwing his robes on and tossing Anakin’s at him. “Let’s go get you the _fancy pens_.”

The trip to the market was refreshing. Anakin was always enamored by the different jewels and clothing that vendors sold. Like a little kid again he’d dart around, not entirely discrete either, and put a hand on nearly everything he saw. They passed a leatherworker, showcasing beautiful boots and old-fashioned armor for whatever needs anyone could possibly see. He had a little bargain bin of mismatched gloves laid out at the end of his booth.

Anakin pulled out a brown one with three silver buckles across the forearm, laying it delicately over his mechno hand. He pulled the wrist of it up, seeing how far it would go and if it would seemingly cover his prosthetic. After asking the shopkeeper for permission he slipped his mechno-hand into it as carefully as possible, which was still a bit difficult with his limited mobility it seemed. 

“Do you want that?” Obi-Wan came over to him to ask. “It suits the strange color scheme you’ve got going.”

“Very funny Master,” Anakin deadpanned.

“I’m serious! Will it make you feel better?”

Anakin simply stared at it, flipping his palm over and over again. To Obi-Wan, it almost looked as if he had never lost his arm at all. One could easily imagine there was flesh and blood running under that leather rather than wires and metal. 

He passed the shopkeep enough credits for the glove, if not just a few credits more, before turning back to Anakin.

“Master you-”

“It suits you Padawan,” Obi-Wan smiled, coming to set a hand on his shoulder. “I hope it helps with your saber training. I can imagine there’s no way to find a good grip with metal on metal.”

“Thank you,” Anakin bowed his head slightly before continuing. 

They spent the day together, eating lunch on a bench from one of the stalls, watching the speeders race overhead. After going through an endless amount of stalls Anakin finally picked out a few pens and a couple journals (dotted only. Lines are too constricting and I’ll never write straight with it unlined). 

Once they got back to the temple and their chambers Obi-Wan cleared out a draw in Anakin’s nightstand for him to put all his stuff. Their room had become a bit cluttered with knick-knacks they brought over from both of their rooms. Obi-Wan had his few things from Qui-Gon and mementos from his time on different missions. Anakin had spare parts for Artoo and Threepio, along with more than a few of his own momentos from missions. There was something from Tatooine too, but he never really explained what it was. 

“Do you want to start today?” Obi-Wan asked. “You could show me how far you’ve gotten with writing?”

“I can’t even hold the pen right Obi-Wan,” Anakin huffed out, grabbing his journal and a pen from the nightstand. “I can’t figure out how to wrap my fingers and-”

“Here let me help,” Obi-Wan interrupted, coming behind Anakin where he sat down with a huff in his chair. He loomed over Anakin’s frame, coming to wrap his right hand around Anakin’s right hand, using his hand to grip the pencil. 

Obi-Wan didn’t like the feeling of the leather beneath his palm. It felt wrong. He had adjusted to the new metal but the glove, well, he knew it was mostly so Anakin could make it look like nothing was wrong. Give him a sense of normalcy. Still, Obi-Wan wished he could feel the cool metal instead. It was still Anakin after all. 

“Now I’m going to let go. Do you think you can keep the pen in your hand?” 

“Yeah I can try,” Anakin said, a bit defeated. 

Obi-Wan relinquished his hold, watching as Anakin’s hand unfurled just a bit but kept a loose hold on the pen. He moved his wrist around a bit to see if he could keep his grip, but the second he went to try and put the ballpoint tip on the flimsiplast his hand slid down it and lost its hold. 

“Maybe,” Anakin sighed. “Maybe I need to work on my hand more. It has to be a sensor not connecting right. Or a wire that’s making it too stiff for small things.”

“Ok Anakin,” Obi-Wan smiled. “Do you want help?”

“No I think I’ve got it,” Anakin smiled, working his new glove off his hand. “I’ve got it.”

The next few days Anakin kept trying to work the circuits and wires into something more delicate, eventually realizing that he might need to have feeling in his fingertips if this was going to work out. He came in one morning with gold plated throughout the metal. He explained in terms that barely sounded like Basic that it would give him the feeling of a real hand. The normal sensations he would have with a flesh hand could be replicated with the mechno-hand, the only difference being that it was metal. 

“And that’s going to help you hold a pen?” Obi-Wan asked, a bit confused. 

“Yes. Because I can feel the grip of it.”

“The metal imitates human touch? But pens are… not human.”

“It replicates human touch for _me_. It feels the same way to my prosthetic holding a pen as my real hand. Just.. Come on help me again,” Anakin smiled at him. 

Obi-Wan came behind him again, wrapping his hand around Anakin’s. Something had changed in this moment to the previous. Maybe it was just that Anakin could _feel_ Obi-Wan’s hand on his own. Maybe it was because it was dusk outside and the sunlight was streaming in a different way. Maybe it was the way their force bond lit up at the touch and sang a beautiful melody between them. Or, for Obi-Wan, maybe it was just imagined. 

But he didn’t want to let go. 

“Show me how to write something?” Anakin spoke softly into the space between them.

Obi-Wan moved Anakin’s hand, albeit a bit sloppy, to write _Anakin Skywalker_ across the flimsiplast in flowing cursive. Again he repeated it, making sure Anakin could feel the way his hand moved the pen. 

“Don’t go stealing my handwriting now,” Obi-Wan joked.

“But Master it’s so pretty,” Anakin teased. 

“It’s professional, not pretty.”

“I’m _pretty_ sure it’s just pretty.”

“Alrighty _Padawan_ ,” Obi-Wan released Anakin’s hand, straightening up to stand behind him. “Show me how you write then.”

“Not. Fair.”

“All is fair in Padawan training. Go on. Write Anakin Skywalker.”

He tried his best, the lines of each letter shaky and almost illegible Almost. He had done it: held the pen in his hand and traced a barely legible, incredibly shaky, and absolutely youngling looking Anakin Skywalker across the page. 

The smile Obi-Wan received from him shot through his heart as the most beautiful ray of sunshine. Warmth and adoration poured from him in a celebration of finally doing something himself and knowing he could do it. 

“Good job my Padawan,” Obi-Wan laughed. “Good job Anakin.”

They decided that after every one of Obi-Wan’s morning Council meetings they would sit down together and write. Obi-Wan went back to the basics of how he taught Anakin during his first few months at the temple. Tracing over the letters that Obi-Wan made to see how close to perfect he could get them. At least Obi-Wan wasn’t trying to teach Anakin an entire new vocabulary. 

“I’m very proud of you Anakin,” Obi-Wan said one afternoon after they had finished up. “You’ve really come a long way with adjusting.”

“Yeah,” Anakin blushed a bit, something Obi-Wan caught on to immediately. “I don’t have nightmares anymore either, it's… it’s nice to sleep soundly at night. I haven’t had that in a while.”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan started cautiously. “The Council has started talking about a potential war. The Senate has brought forward a motion concerning the clones I found on Kamino. Chancellor Palpatine is, supposedly, insistent that we use our new army against the Separatists to gain back control.”

“But we’re not supposed to be warriors,” Anakin tilted his head a bit. It was adorable, hitting a little point in Obi-Wan’s heart at how young he sometimes looked. But also saw how much he had grown into the man he was today. “We’re peacekeepers. Master Windu is always talking about that.”

“Yes Anakin, but the Senate would like us to lead different clone battalions in this war. And in our current political situation, it might not be wise to object.”

“What does any of this have to do with me?” Anakin was starting to get defensive, Obi-Wan could feel it through their Force bond how his tension flared. 

“They’re hoping to have you take the trials soon. They’ll need all the generals they can get, and they’re willing to expedite your time as my Padawan to allow us both to have our own battalions.”

“I’m not ready! I just- I’m still trying to get back into forms and, and I can’t even write! What kind of general of a war battalion can’t even write!”

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan moved to sit directly across from him, grabbing Anakin’s hands to pull them away from his face. “Anakin, listen to me. I believe in a month you’ll be ready.”

“A month?!” Anakin shot up from his seat. “A month?! Obi-Wan, Master I can't, I'm not ready!”

“Anakin please,” Obi-Wan reached a hand out to him. “Listen. You are ready. You just need some more practice sparring and you’re ready.”

“I’m not! I’m not strong enough in the Force. I’ll never pass the Trial of the Spirit! Or-or courage!”

“Anakin, remember, the Council has already passed you on the Trial of the Flesh. And they’ve all agreed that by facing Dooku you’ve passed the Trial of Courage. You’d only have three to go through.”

“Master,” Anakin looked petrified, but Obi-Wan knew he couldn’t help. There was nothing in this world that he could do now. He had voiced his disapproval to the Council, but he wasn’t allowed to make the decision as to whether Anakin was ready or not. That was between the Grandmaster and Anakin. “What if I fail?”

“You can retake it. But Anakin you are the strongest Jedi I have known. I’m confident you will pass and make me proud.”

Obi-Wan came to stand in front of Anakin and smile, arms crossed to try and keep himself from pulling Anakin into him and settling him against his chest. It seemed normal for him to walk with his arms crossed these days, but it was all just to keep himself restrained. Maybe even to force Anakin to stay away. 

“Now,” Obi-Wan started again. “I think your braid could use some attending to again. Do you want me to braid it?”

“I want to try myself,” Anakin forced a small smile. “I think I can do it. If it’s too sloppy I’ll have you redo it. Okay?”

“Of course. I’ll be right outside if you need me.”

Anakin took his time in the fresher, working his braid, before coming out with a beaming smile to show Obi-Wan that he did it. It looked clean enough that Obi-Wan wouldn’t have to re-do either. He wouldn’t have that braid for much longer, but for now, it was a big victory to Anakin, and Obi-Wan would smile and celebrate it with him as long as he wanted. 

As each night went on Obi-Wan slowly found himself waking up tangled softly with Anakin. They always started on opposite sides of the bed, but once Obi-Wan woke he’d notice Anakin’s leg caught between Obi-Wan’s calves. His hand lying on top of Anakin’s palm. Their heads much closer than they had started in the night. 

Obi-Wan loved waking up to the sight of Anakin sleeping. And he liked the small points of contact that he’d get to feel in the morning. But as always, he spared Anakin the embarrassment of knowing he tangled himself with Obi-Wan in the night, carefully and quietly making his way to the fresher. 

That’s where Obi-Wan noticed the first little ripped corner of Anakin’s writing. Just a simple AK written in a heart like a preteen. Obi-Wan laughed at it, picking it up as he brushed his teeth to see if there was anything else written on it. 

_At least he’s practicing_ , Obi-Wan laughed to himself. 

He wrote as small as possible next to the words _The A looks really nice!_ and left it on the counter for Anakin to find while he was at his Council meeting. 

Again Obi-Wan found another on their table as Anakin was at sparring practice. Normally Obi-Wan would join, but he wasn’t feeling particularly well today and wanted a moment to settle for the day. A cute _Anakin Kenobi_ was written on a piece of flimsiplast very cleanly. He could tell Anakin really struggled with it, the indents on the flimsiplast deep, and the line of ink thick. 

He simply laughed it off, thinking Anakin was silly for forgetting a little plus or ampersand in the middle. It was cute though, and might have made his heart jump in his chest at the sight of it if he hadn’t known Anakin well enough to know how forgetful he was. 

_Looks great! Your writing is coming along wonderfully_. He scribbled across the back. 

Once Anakin came he hurriedly picked the note up off the table.

“It looks great Anakin!” Obi-Wan praised, setting down his holopad he was reading from to see a deep blush cross Anakin’s face. “Anakin and Kenobi. The dream team. You’re really coming along well in your writing!”

“Ha, yeah! I just forgot the little and in there. Thanks for catching the- the grammatical error.”

“Anakin, I'm not judging you on grammar,” Obi-Wan tried to calm Anakin as he felt the edges of his embarrassment creep into their bond. “If that were the basis of my critique I myself would fail. The only one with perfect grammar in this temple might be Master Ti.”

“Yeah, she’s great… Anyway, I’m gonna go take a shower. Do you mind? I’m kind of sweaty.”

Anakin jolted quickly into the fresher, not even given Obi-Wan a real chance to answer. Obi-Wan noticed he walked in with literally everything he walked through the door with. Belt and saber included. Just as he was about to say something Anakin slid open the door, chucking his saber and belt onto the ground carelessly. 

“ _Anakin_.”

“I know it’s my life! I’ll pick it up later!”

Obi-Wan kept finding more and more notes littered across their chambers. He knew flimsiplast would be easier to write on but he didn’t entirely consider the cluttered, impact it would have on their space. It seemed Anakin was keen on ripping the notes _out_ of his journal rather than keeping them all together. 

Some of them were really cute, bringing back fond little memories. Sentences like _Obi-Wan Kenobi is the best Master in the Order._ On occasion, it was just _Obi-Wan is the best Jedi in the Order_. 

There were a few scribbled here and there with the Code or history lessons that Obi-Wan had talked to him about over the years. A few little entries about being nervous about the trials. With how many notes Obi-Wan found everywhere he almost wondered if Anakin was leaving them as a way to talk to him. 

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan finally asked as they ate dinner. “What’s with the little notes?’

“Oh,” Anakin blushed, slouching his posture down. “I’m sorry. I just. I don’t know, I rip them out to take with me or throw out if I don’t like them and I guess I just leave them on accident while I’m getting ready. You know me, just no sense of object permanence.”

“Anakin that’s not true,” Obi-Wan halfway scolded. “You’re not an idiot and you certainly have object permanence. You’re very bright in your own ways.”

“That’s a nice way of calling someone dumb Master,” Anakin laughed.

“Do not make me come over there and knock this into your brain. You are smart! You can put together electric and mechanical things in a way no one else can. You assembled Threepio from scrap parts! You retrofitted and practically created your entire prosthetic. Anakin you are smarter than you realize. Book smarts is not the only kind of smarts.”

The firelight between them crackled and blossomed across the wood of their table. It stretched between them, connecting them both for brief moments as it danced and swayed with their breathing. They both had paused eating to look at each other, Obi-Wan in determination and Anakin in, well in something Obi-Wan couldn’t understand.

“Thank you Obi-Wan,” Anakin finally smiled out, continuing to poke and eat at his dinner. 

It wasn’t until a few days later, just a week before Anakin’s trials, that Obi-Wan came home to another note. This one lay open in Anakin’s notebook where he had fallen asleep on top of it. Anakin was training for hours in the sparring ring, making sure his saber technique was as good, if not better, than before his injury. According to his partners, he was fantastic, something in his new mechno-hand making him more agile at defense. 

Obi-Wan smiled, as always, at the sight of Anakin’s Padawan braid laid across the table and his head tucked into the crook of his left arm. He was practicing again, though at this point the man didn’t need to practice his writing anymore. In a month of delicate hand-holding to help Anakin cradle a pen correctly, to watching Anakin envision stories to write down quickly to see if his hand could keep up with his mind, Anakin was practically back to normal. 

It made it easy to read _Anakin Kenobi_ and _Obi-Wan Skywalker_ written over and over again in Anakin’s journal. It made it even easier to read _Anakin and Obi-Wan Kenobi_ or _Anakin and Obi-Wan Skywalker_. 

The sight of it sent the sharpest and most poignant bit of hope deep into Obi-Wan’s chest. It hurt. It pained him to see it. To think that for a second in Anakin’s consciousness maybe, just maybe, he reciprocated all the feelings Obi-Wan had choked down over the years. It was a horrid kind of hope to believe in it, to think that maybe there was something there. 

So again he wrote it off, settled the hope in his chest, and swore again it wouldn’t live to seep into more of him than it already had. He decided to leave Anakin again for the day, opting to cancel his plans of a warm morning shower to settle himself into a meditative trance to cast that hope out.

* * *

“Master?” Obi-Wan heard after the sound of footsteps approaching him.

“Come meditate with me Anakin.”

“Is everything alright? I thought I heard you come back this morning but I couldn’t find you. I figured this was the only other place you’d be.”

“Yes. I just needed to think through some emotions from this morning is all. Sit. Meditate with me. It’s good preparation for your trials.”

“Sure. I was hoping to ask if you’d spar with me later though? Just to make sure I’m ready?”

Obi-Wan felt Anakin’s presence settle next to him, small bits of warmth radiating from him and the general singing of his Force signature humming into his mind. 

“Why me?”

“You’re the best Jedi I know. Well, besides Master Yoda. But, if I can handle my Master, I- I know I’ll be able to handle the trials.”

That same tinge of hope crawled back up out of Obi-Wan and into his stomach, settling like a hard rock and trying to claw its way north. Trying to scamper and scuttle up his esophagus into his mouth and spill out his emotions. But again he let it dispel into the Force, let all of it leave him until he was almost empty inside. 

Almost. 

“Of course. Meditate first. Sparring later.”

Anakin kept his own against Obi-Wan the entire spar, their usual banter picking up between them as the green of training sabers hit against each other. It seemed Anakin’s hand truly had helped him at becoming more agile. He deflected everyone one of Obi-Wan’s offensive attacks, and if it wasn’t for his slight hesitation, he might have won too. 

It gave Anakin the courage to make it through the week. 

He left early in the morning to take his trials. Obi-Wan wasn’t allowed to walk him there. This was something Anakin faced alone with Grandmaster Yoda determining his passing or failing. As Obi-Wan paced around their chambers he finally spotted a single note left under an empty cup and one pre-prepared tea bag. 

_Master,_

_I wanted to show you I could write again. Thank you for being patient with me. It’s due to your kindness, wisdom, and compassion that I’m able to face my trials. I hope when I return it will be to the excitement that I passed and you will be free of me as your Padawan. A Knight in my right and able to fight by your side in the war._

_-Anakin._

_P.S. drink the tea. I know you’re nervous. It’ll calm you._

Obi-Wan made himself the tea that Anakin left, relaxing into the hints of lavender behind it and trying to settle onto their couch. His nerves wouldn’t let him sleep or fully relax into something of a meditative state, but he could at least lean back and know that Anakin was doing his best. He had taught Anakin everything he knew. Now Anakin just needed to prove it.

“I passed!” Anakin came laughing into their chambers, head held high, and a pure excitement behind his steps. “I did it! I’m… I’m healed. I’m going to be Knight Skywlaker _and_ General Skywalker and I’m a full Jedi and-”

“Anakin, Anakin slow down,” Obi-Wan smiled, coming over to his soon to be former Padawan. “I am very proud of you.”

Obi-Wan put his hands on Anakin’s shoulders, a habit he had gotten used to over the years when Anakin just needed the extra touch to calm himself. This was different though. Anakin was no longer going to be his Padawan and that was official. The youngest to take the trials. Even with a prosthetic he barely had enough time to adjust to, he passed with flying colors. 

“It feels weird,” Anakin hung his head slightly. “ _Knight_. Jedi Knight.”

“Why? Do you feel you don’t deserve the title?”

“No! I just… I’ve been at your side and your Padawan for so long it’s strange knowing that I won’t be anymore."

“Anakin,” Obi-Wan chuckled. “You can stay at my side. It just means you’re no longer bound to me as Master-Padawan. Starting today even, you are your own person and can now make your own choices within the Order. Of course, with the Council’s approval that you rarely listen to.”

He was laughing but it hurt. It was the culmination of everything Obi-Wan had been afraid of. He was always scared of losing Anakin in battle, or to the dark side. But this was losing Anakin as his companion, as his second heartbeat, his second person. It hurt as much as losing Qui-Gon, and Obi-Wan started spinning slightly, wondering how much more he could bear to lose without his approval of it. It sat on his shoulders until Anakin spoke, pulling him back. 

“I can make my own choices,” he smiled, something behind it that Obi-Wan hadn’t seen before. “Do you still consider me your Padawan right now?”

“Until your knighting ceremony, yes.”

“I can wait a day,” Anakin smirked.

“Wait a day for what?” Obi-Wan laughed as Anakin started walking backward, out into the hallway again. “Anakin!”

The knighting ceremony went perfectly, Obi-Wan watching in awe that he did it. Anakin really turned out to be wonderful. It was a bittersweet moment as Grandmaster Yoda cut his Padawan braid off. He looked bare without it. But as Anakin was handed his braid to keep and stood as a newly knighted Jedi the pain of it went away. It went away as Obi-Wan realized Anakin wasn’t looking out over the crowd. He wasn’t making eye contact with the Council members or other Jedi.

He was staring straight at Obi-Wan with the biggest grin plastered across his face. 

Anakin was graceful, for once, with the praise he accepted from the Council. He was jumping as excitedly as a child, nervous on the balls of his feet, jittery but trying to keep it contained in the sleeves of his robes. Finally, everyone had filed out but Obi-Wan who was walking to him to say his own personal congratulations. 

Instead, Anakin ran over to Obi-Wan faster than Obi-Wan had time to register. He was wrapped in arms, Obi-Wan instinctively bringing his arms around the neck of the man holding him, as lips met lips. For that brief, instinctual moment it felt like spring blooming around the cusp of winter. The melting of ice into soft flowing rivers that brought forth new life from the ground. It felt like the collective call of the forest as the first light of dawn hit. 

Anakin put him down after realizing what he had just done, setting Obi-Wan back on the ground and pulling away from him awkwardly. He stared down at his shoes in shame, the smile he had been sporting quickly falling away. 

Obi-Wan had never expected it. The true realization that after all these years Anakin felt it too. The same tug and pull of wanting and being too afraid to go after it. He thought it was just a joke, all of those notes of their names written together. Something Anakin did half asleep or simply to practice different ways of writing. It was cute and it seemed so innocent. But now…

“Obi-Wan I’m so sorry I don’t understand what came over me. That was inappropriate I-”

He cut Anakin off with a kiss of his own, coming to pull his face up from where he had dropped it over his shoulders to capture it between his hands. To push their lips back together, back where they belonged, and let spring continue to break the hard, ice formed facades of their illusioned one-sided love.

Obi-Wan let Anakin tangle his fingers between the strands of his hair. Let Anakin push as hard as possible into their kiss, as if he wanted to dissolve into everything Obi-Wan was. Push himself into every possible crevice and dip of him. Obi-Wan wrapped his own hand behind Anakin’s neck, pushing his fingertips up into the short hairs at the base of Anakin’s neck, thumb tracing over the spot where his Padawan braid had been moments before. His other grabbed a handful of his robes, pulling Anakin down into him, refusing to let this man go, or believe this man would leave him again. 

In the darkness of the Hall of Knighthood things finally felt put back together. Eyes closed they imagined it, but knew when they opened their eyes and separated from each other they would no longer have to imagine. It was real. The puzzle pieces finally all fell back together and unraveled themselves back to a wonderful reality. 

Anakin was finally a Knight. Anakin was safe and healed. Obi-Wan wouldn’t lose Anakin. Because they’d choose each other over and over again. 

And that was all they could ever want.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for stopping by. Feel free to find me as [ xeniaraven ](https://xeniaraven.tumblr.com)on tumblr too.


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